


mumble jumble

by kittylovesbambi



Category: DBSK | Tohoshinki | TVfXQ | TVXQ
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-30
Updated: 2019-01-26
Packaged: 2019-06-18 23:13:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15496896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittylovesbambi/pseuds/kittylovesbambi
Summary: A series of oneshots/wips





	1. I'll trade nine lives for an eternity with you in it

**Author's Note:**

> Just a journal of ideas that I want to write but have no time or stamina to expand too much upon.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They are star-crossed lovers but Changmin doesn't give a shit about astrology.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING there are brief mentions of raping of minors and non-explicit descriptions of violence.
> 
> I was too lazy to read through for errors so please let me know if there are any so I can edit it hahhaaha thanks :P  
> edit: i finally got my butt around to editing it i hope at least it's mostly coherent now otl. i also realised that i didn't explain a lot of how this verse went? it started with a drabble i did on twitter i guess you can read it to get some sort of context: https://twitter.com/poopytubby/status/1021347613071704065

Changmin looks back at his corpse, battered and bloodied, but the tears in his eyes isn’t for the horrific experience he just went through.

Yunho wants to reach out to him, touch him and say it’s okay and tell him that he shouldn’t want to go through what he had.

But he doesn’t, because that’s the only way they can be together. And no matter how much he berates himself for being selfish and cruel, he wants their union more than anything else.

Maybe his soul is black after all.

Yunho threads his skeletal fingers through Changmin’s delicate, fleshy ones, and tugs him, urging him to leave the place of tragedy. He tugs once, twice, but Changmin doesn’t budge, because he feels disappointed in himself and resentment for Fate, for making Yunho wait, for wasting another lifetime worth of moments.

It has already been seven.

* * *

  _Changmin’s transformation turns Yunho breathless, lights brighter and more vibrant than the aurora wraps around his feline figure like a tornado, as it morphs into something larger, with longer limbs and a handsomer face._

_“I thought you enjoyed being a cat,” Yunho comments, just as Changmin prepares to lift the glass to his lips._

_“There are some things you can’t get as a cat,” Changmin replies, raises his eyes to meet Yunho’s empty sockets._

_“You had nine lives. What could you not find even after all that time?”_

_“Companionship.”_

_And Changmin downs the contents of the cup._

* * *

 

Just like every life before, it doesn’t take long before Changmin remembers.

It is agony in the worst possible way, and Changmin wonders if the Gods were punishing him for trying to manipulate fate by trapping him in the endless cycle of reincarnation, not allowing him to forget the one he is trying to defy fate for, forcing him to dwell in loneliness for all his lives.

When the memories come back, it’s always the same. He cries, terribly, tries to find an end but knows he can’t. Suicide is a sin but it isn’t grave enough, so he will only be condemned as a sinner and be sent to hell until he repents.

That isn’t what he wants, he needs to commit a greater sin than that, much greater.

* * *

  _Two months after Changmin turns human, the head Grim of the animal division sidles up to Yunho and places a furry gloved hand on his clavicle and asks if he’s alright._

_“You’ve been carrying a raincloud above you for quite some time now, Yunho,” He comments, his other gloved hand nervously fiddling with an ear on the rabbit ear headband sitting on his skull._

_“I’m okay,” Yunho lies. He had been trying not to be so transparent about it, but he still failed badly after all._

_“Look,” The head Grim starts, every part of his body radiating as much guilt a bag of bones is able to express. “I’m really sorry about what you’re going through but, you’re simply too grim for our department. I think it’s best if you return to being a Grim for humans again.”_

* * *

 In all of Changmin’s lives, he has only experienced peace and love, right up till the few moments before he dies.

His deaths were always violent, _is_ always violent.

He huddles in the corner, and all he hears is the pounding of his own heart and the footsteps of his killer.

“Come out come out, little kitty,” She sings, as she drags the blade of a chopper across the metal grilles of the window.

_Tong, tong, tong._

Changmin shuts his eyes, bids a mental farewell to his family and friends of the present, prays that none of them will experience the terror of being hunted.

At least it isn’t his first time.

At least he can seek solace in the arms of Death.

“There you are.”

He hopes it's his last.

* * *

  _“How did you become a reaper?”_

_The sun was setting and Changmin just ended his seventh life at the hands of some psychopathic cat killer. The cat is still shaking from the trauma, despite the tough front he puts up. Yunho doesn't really like talking about his experience but, he wants more to distract Changmin from the horrors he just went through._

_Their friendship had progressed significantly from when Yunho met him four lives ago, when Changmin didn’t even crack open his eyelids to spare him a glance._ _He realises he enjoys talking to Changmin, and he is sure the sentiments are reciprocated, because if not he’s sure Changmin wouldn’t bother entertaining him._

_Yunho stares at the orange ink spilling across the horizon and recounts his last life. He tells Changmin about his crime, about how it felt as he sank the blunt head of an axe over and over into the bodies of men much larger than him and the spatter of red against his skin. He thinks of the figure of the little girl he loved so dear and sworn to protect when she was a mere infant huddled at the corner, tear-streaked and eyes filled with horror, at the memories of the atrocities that were committed towards her, at the vicious wrath that her brother, that she has only known was capable of love and gentleness, was unleashing._

_His line of sight never leaves the sinking sun, afraid of seeing judgement in the eyes of the feline._

_Funny, how he’s afraid of the judgement of a cat, a soul he’s in-charge of no less, when he wasn’t afraid of God of Death himself adjudging him to an eternity as a reaper, forever being weighed down by the guilt of his horrendous sin._

_Silence stretches between them, deafening._

_When Changmin finally speaks, it’s not something Yunho expects._

_“A pure soul, and a great sin. That’s what reapers are made of?”_

* * *

The moment Yunho appears, he gets an armful of Changmin.

Changmin practically barrels into him, hunching and pressing his tear-stained face hard into his clavicle, arms wrapped tight around his ribcage, as his body convulses from the violent sobs.

Yunho imagines how his flesh indents around his bones, hard, angular and awkward, and thinks about how it feels wrong, thinks that Changmin deserves better and more than a literal skeleton, thinks that Changmin should forget about him and find someone who can give him a happy life.

But he remembers what Changmin told him, for he never forgets anything about Changmin. 

So he wraps his arms around his love, strokes his bony fingers up and down his back and whispers words of love and comfort into his ears.

Changmin quietens.

* * *

_“I think I love you,” Yunho says, the second time he sees Changmin as a human. It was his fourth life as a person._

_“What kind of shitty confession is that,” Changmin deadpans, though the faintest pink dusts his cheekbones._

_“Well I-,” Yunho sputters, having expected the response but his lack of brain decides to go haywire anyway and he forgets whatever he had prepared to say. “I’m not expecting anything in return, I just wanted you to know.”_

_“Why aren’t you expect anything in return?” Changmin snaps. “Expect it, you idiot.”_

_“But I-,”_

_“You’re enough. That’s all I need.”_

_You’re perfect, Yunho hears._

* * *

 Changmin’s ninth life as a human is different.

He grows up in the wrong side of town, his mother a violent alcoholic, and his father negligent and a junkie.

When he starts recalling his past life at the tender age of eight, the temptation of death was much sweeter than all the other times because this life wasn’t worth living anyway. The burden of eight lifetimes and the pain of the last eight years builds up and before he knows it he’s sitting on the floor staring at a penknife for way too long.

He picks it up.

The door slams open.

His father has brought home his usual group of friends, probably to sniff more coke and get high and throw him against some furniture.

Changmin automatically backs up into a corner, shrinking himself into a tight ball, hoping he somehow disappears.

That’s when he sees new additions to the group, an old man with the vilest face he has ever seen, and a little girl younger than him, her face whiter than sheet.

Changmin’s heart drops.

He watches in horror as the scene before him unfolds, the girl is gagged in the matter of seconds and three men pin her down, the newest addition unbuckles his belt.

Changmin shuts his eyes tight, refusing to watch any further. The sound of heartbeats, the lashing of the belt and the tearing of clothes flood his ears and, screaming, so much screaming.

He realises he’s screaming.

He stops, and the room is dead silent.

He slowly lifts his head and opens his eyes, and he sees the old man squatting right in front of him, lips curving into a wicked smile.

The man suddenly grabs Changmin by his ear and he panics, lifts the penknife and stabs the man right in the eye.

* * *

Even after years of therapy, Changmin never stops feeling guilty and never gets over the trauma. It wasn’t as if people were trying to make him forget either. His past followed him everywhere, the boy who massacred his father, four other men, and a little girl.

When Changmin closes his eyes, he still remembers the girl lifting his hand and drawing the knife across her throat.

 _Thank you,_ he think he saw her mouth. But how can he be sure when all he could hear were his own cries at the blood gurgling in her mouth.

Perhaps he should have joined her.

But Changmin lasts, damaged and alone, and lives to a ripe old age of eighty, unfortunately.

When he finally meets Yunho, he doesn’t cry, he stopped doing that twenty years ago because he realised that it was futile.

But Yunho does.

Yunho presses him into his chest, cries apologies over and over, threading his fingers through his hair and strokes his back, as if Changmin was the one in need of comfort. Changmin’s cheek pressing uncomfortably against the edge of Yunho’s clavicle and it feels odd to have the hard, angular fingers stroking his scalp.

Changmin wraps his arms around Yunho and pulls him closer.

As Yunho calms down, he rubs his cheekbones against Changmin’s cheek before resting their foreheads together.

His cheeks come off wet.

Oh.

Yunho pinches the hem of his cloak and lifts it to Changmin’s eyes and wipes them dry.

For the first time in a long time, Changmin smiles.

It's far from the end, but it's a start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the summary sounds a lot funnier than the story sorry haha.


	2. A little closer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Most things seem prettier from afar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: not much but there's some sex here so. yea, that's it.

Changmin looks out the window, looking at his handsome new neighbour bustle around his house preparing for his housewarming that night, making sure everything is spick and span.

Yunho, whose name he learnt yesterday when he stopped by to invite him to the housewarming, is the definition of a perfect guy. He is drop dead gorgeous and friendly to everyone, cheerful almost twenty-four hours a day. It has only been a week since he moved in and he has already managed to charm all the old folks who populate the area.

Heck, he didn’t even break a sweat standing outside Changmin’s door under the afternoon sun in the forty-degree heat. Even Changmin was sweating and all he was doing was sitting in a chair with a standing fan blowing at his face.

“I didn’t expect a young man to live here, you look even younger than me,” Yunho had commented, hands holding a pot of soup. The visit was completely unnecessary, Changmin was going to his housewarming that night anyway, but it made Changmin’s heart skip a beat.

“It’s peaceful here,” Changmin replied, his mouth twitching into an involuntary smile. “Safe.”

Yunho beamed in response, a perfect set of pearly whites glinting bright under the scorching sun.

At that time, Changmin was practically knocked sideways by his charm.

But it seems that his memory must have suffered some sort of a lapse, because now all he can think of are hyenas.

* * *

 The next day, Changmin knocks on Yunho’s door, a freshly baked chocolate cake in his hands because it only seems right to return the favour.

Because the old ladies were all hogging Yunho’s attention last night he couldn’t even slip a greeting in.

Changmin’s grip on the plate tightens.

Yunho swings open the door, abrupt and without any preamble, knocking Changmin out of his reverie and almost causing him to drop the cake.

“I’m so sorry,” Yunho exclaims, his hands immediately reaching out to help balance the plate, his fingers slipping under Changmin’s naturally. They stare at each other for a while, hyperaware of the contact, but neither moving to break it.

Changmin looks aside and blushes.

“Is this for me?” Yunho asks all of a sudden, too obvious in his efforts to change the topic. Changmin nods, still looking at the grass patch next to the driveway. “That’s so sweet of you! Though, would you mind if we have it at your place? Mine is, um, still quite dusty from the renovation, the dining area is. Just, give me a moment while I grab my coat.”

When Yunho returns, Changmin finally takes a good look at him.

Beads of sweat paint glistening tracks down the side of his face, his breath just a touch heavier than usual.

Changmin smiles, fond, and wipes Yunho’s forehead with his sleeves.

He ignores the niggling feeling at the back of his brain telling him that he has forgotten something.

* * *

 Changmin crowds himself in the toilet and pulls his zipper down. He sticks his hand in his pants and strokes fast and hard, arousal and guilt pounding at the back of his brain so hard that he comes all over his fingers almost instantly. He had been hard for over the past hour or so.

He fumbles out to his bedroom, throwing his soiled clothes all over the floor and looks out his window again. He catches Yunho stepping out of his house and into his garden, the terrible summer sun beating down on his bare back, one hand holding a rusty hoe and the other pressing a phone to his ear.

His back is drenched in sweat and oh how Changmin wants to lap it all up.

He wraps his fingers around his cock again, his thoughts full of bright smiles and fingers smeared with chocolate cream.

When he comes again, more intense than the first time, Changmin almost cries in relief.

* * *

 They start dating and sleeping together after two months of dancing around each other.

It starts off innocent, the invites, both using the excuse of wanting to repay each other for the meals. Then dinner usually leads to movies or long talks or wine, and one night Yunho falls asleep on Changmin’s shoulder after an especially long day and a sci-fi movie that Yunho pretended to be interested in because the sparkles in Changmin’s eyes when he pulled out the DVD rivalled the brightest stars in the night sky.

The accidental brushes of their arms and knocking of knees during their dates become more intentional caressing of fingers and rubbing of thighs, and it doesn’t take long before Yunho leans in to peck Changmin on the lips because he thought the latter looked especially cute and flustered when he tried to confess to Yunho with the chocolate cake he first baked for him. And because two months of foreplay has taken its toll on Changmin’s sexual health, he demands Yunho to cure it because it’s all his fault and why didn’t he confess to Changmin earlier so Changmin didn’t need to confess himself, he never did so before, never felt the need to do so before.

Yunho apologises with sloppy kisses all over his face and chest and sinks to the floor and pulls down Changmin zipper with his teeth, teasing and touching him all over except for the places where he really wants to be touched, before stretching his lips over Changmin’s cock because Yunho thinks he deserves it after all the begging, despite him cursing Yunho’s entire family while he did that.

After Changmin bends over the kitchen counter to allow Yunho to fuck him and lies on the bed while Yunho rides his cock to oblivion, they lay together side-by-side, fingers intertwined, and foreheads pressed together, trying to catch their breaths while stealing little kisses in between.

“I’m so glad I met you,” Changmin spills, the remnants of the ecstasy from sex destroying his walls and letting his mouth run on autopilot. “So perfect, so nice, so handsome. Like you, I want to be like you.”

Yunho places his free hand on Changmin’s cheek and strokes it, replying with a chuckle, eyes knowing, “You’re perfect, Changmin. You already are.”

* * *

When Changmin falls asleep, Yunho gently pulls out of his embrace and goes to the basement. A terrible smell hits his nostrils and he fumbles around trying to find the light switch.

He flicks it on, and smiles.

* * *

“I heard Mrs Kang is missing,” Yunho starts, his face buried in the morning paper. He crumples it, worry written all over his face. “Her husband is looking for her everywhere. I heard he intends to go up to Seoul to ask major news outlets to cover the story as well.”

“Oh,” was all Changmin could say, but his brain races at a hundred miles an hour.

* * *

The next time Changmin sees Mr Kang, the old man is sitting on his rocking chair, staring at him unblinkingly, eyes filled with accusation and anger.

Yunho steps out of the toilet adjacent to the living room, pulling his gloves back on. He takes a quick glimpse at Changmin, lips parting in surprise by the presence of a third person in the room. But other than that, he makes no move to question Changmin’s presence.

“You’re a little late, sorry,” is all Yunho says, his voice betraying no emotion. He moves quickly, cleaning up the lunchboxes he had brought over for the old man an hour ago, and washing the cup of water that Mr Kang gave him as an act of hospitality when he had arrived.

“Yun, you,” Changmin starts, stops, breath leaving his lungs all of a sudden. He drops his bag.

The sole content in the bag clutters against the floor, flat and sharp and metallic.

“Changminnie,” Yunho chuckles, unable to hide the edge of exasperation, eyes busy scanning the area to ensure all traces of him are gone. “I’m trying to clean up here. Don’t leave your things everywhere. Wow I can’t believe I’m the one saying this to you.”

When Yunho finally looks up at Changmin, his expression softens. He takes two large steps and closes the distance between them and gathers Changmin’s hands in his. They are shaking.

“Are you disappointed,” Yunho asks, eyes gentle as he raises a hand to wipe away Changmin’s tears. “Or relieved?”

Changmin doesn’t know.

But he’s somehow more convinced that they are truly meant to be.

“I thought you could make me become normal,” Changmin says, voice breaking.

“Oh hush, baby,” Yunho pulls his boyfriend into an embrace, making soothing noises and stroking his head. “You are normal.”

_You’re perfect, Changmin. You already are._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope this made sense. haha. feedback would be lovely thank you.


	3. Immortal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Both just want their love to be eternal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ermmmmmm so apparently my brain is full of dark and sad plots lately so. here's another. 
> 
> WARNING: mentions and brief descriptions of rape, drug use, suicide and murder

Changmin is damaged goods. 

He was orphaned at the age of five by his parents. He was different from what we thought, he overheard his father tell the orphanage director, different from what we wanted. He starts thirsting for attention and validation, getting into wrong company and doing all the wrong things to get all the wrong kind of attention. 

It didn't matter, because even his parents thought he was wrong.

When he gets out of juvie for the fifth time, he is just two days away from turning into an adult. His boyfriend, a married man who is ten years older and who have been dating him for five years, or rather who have been fucking him for five years, invites over five other guys the night before he turns twenty-one. They get him high on alcohol and weeping for attention with drugs, and take turns fucking him in all the sick ways.

All without his permission.

Later Changmin lies sprawled eagle on the floor, used and tired, and his boyfriend throws a couple of dollars on the floor after buttoning up his pants. You've grown up now, Changmin, he comments nonchalantly, as if he hasnt just destroyed the boy and all the remaining scraps of dignity he thought he had already lost. It's time for us to move on. It was great knowing you. 

The only thing Changmin hears is rejection and "you're not wanted anymore"s covered up with pretty patronising words.

He guesses he should already be used to it. But every time he gets thrown aside and a fresh cut adds to the existing ones that litter his thighs, he still cries.

* * *

When Changmin meets Yunho, he falls in love immediately. He wonders how he can fall so hard and fast for a complete stranger with the brightest smile when he finds it so hard to love himself. 

And he thinks that's okay, because Yunho loves him enough for the two of them. 

Yunho is an artist, bright and creative and passionate and driven, but he barely makes ends meet with his meagre salary, living in a one-room flat with no hot water and no heater, but Changmin is grateful because it gave him all the excuse to demand sex and cuddles.

It's a crazy thing, Changmin thinks, to finally be in the position to demand. And for the first time in his life, he feels needed, and he would give anything to feel this way forever. 

Yunho likes showing Changmin his pieces, likes explaining and talking about them for hours. And Changmin listens attentively, because even though Yunho can get boring and talk for way too long about his works, Changmin wants to please him, feels the need to please him.

If not, the devil in his head says, he won't want you anymore. 

So after two weeks, Changmin knows everything about Stephen, Jonathan, Rose, and Vanessa. They're named after his exes, Yunho had explained one drowsy afternoon, because the memories of the breakups serve as excellent artistic inspiration. The paintings are always only in varying shades of red, and depict a wide range of themes, from violent splashes to gentle strokes of the brush.

Stephen had anger issues, he remembers Yunho saying, and Rose was too safe and unexciting. 

One night when they were starving , Changmin gathers up all his guts and asks Yunho the question that has been haunting him. 

If we break up, though Changmin fervently hopes otherwise, will I become a painting too? 

Changmin braces himself for the answer.

No, Yunho replies and Changmin deflates, but Yunho continues. Changmin, we will be together forever, I won't let you be alone, sad and lonely on a sheet of canvas. Because I love you the most.

They then made love under the moonlight, having the stars testify for their eternal dedication to each other. 

* * *

When the authorities catch on, Yunho tearfully asks Changmin to leave and Changmin begs Yunho to let him stay. 

You said you'll never leave me alone, Changmin cries, cheeks stained with tears and his newly healed heart sees old fractures opening again. You can't leave me alone, Changmin adds, because Yunho has spoiled Changmin into making demands even when the traitorous devil in his mind tells him that he isn't worthy.

Yunho looks long and hard at Changmin, lips parting and closing like a fish out of water, and finally agrees.

Yunho lies Changmin down on the mattress and makes love to him one last time, their kisses salty from tears and Yunho whispers promises of an eternity into Changmin's ears. 

They hold hands and look straight into each other's eyes when Changmin downs the bottle of sleeping pills.

Yunho cradles his lover in his arms until he becomes still.

* * *

The next morning, all news outlets cover the story of the capture of a serial killer who turns his lovers into spectacularly gruesome paintings. They talk about how he was found bleeding to death in his flat and his latest lover cum victim lying on the bed with a vein cut wide open. The killer dies on the way to the hospital.

His latest piece of work is special, all the news reports mentioned, as it carries two sets of DNA and is the only painting that is figurative. It clearly depicts two silhouettes making love under the night sky.

_This way, Yunho explains, breath weak and body slumping over Changmin's, fingers moving to intertwine with his, I can keep us immortalised together forever._


	4. in loving memory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yunho has dementia* (edited. previously: Alzheimer's. I read up a bit on the symptoms and realised what i'm trying to portray here is leaning more towards dementia than Alzheimer's.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a short... sad.... thing..........
> 
> disclaimer: i don't really know very much about the condition, i just came across a tweet on Alzheimer's and just, got real sad real quick and had to get it off my chest. im sorry if i have portrayed it inaccurately.

“Changmin-ah,” Yunho presses his phone to his face, his voice filled with anxiety and worry. “Where are you? Please call me back ok? Hyung is really worried about you.”

Changmin puts down the plates he was drying and goes up to him, encases Yunho’s hand in both of his and bringing it down gently from his ear. He then raises one palm and places it gently on his husband’s cheek, making Yunho face him directly.

“Hyung, don’t worry okay?” Changmin smiles, little bits of sadness clinging to the edges of infinite patience that he has in his eyes. “Changmin is fine. He is safe, and happy.”

“No, you don’t understand,” Yunho replies, frustration tinging his voice. He doesn’t know who this friend is, but he knows that he was always there when he needed someone. But this friend never seems to understand the relationship between him and his Changmin, the person he considers his partner, both in work and in life. “He would never leave me hanging like that, not answering any of my calls. Usually he would at least text me to say that it is inconvenient to answer my calls. Something must have happened. Should we call the police?”

Changmin looks on at his husband, and sees the worry swimming in his eyes, hears the fear tinging his voice.

_I don’t like to be alone, Changmin-ah._

Changmin wonders if Yunho still remembers the times when they fought, when Changmin would get himself drunk, downing bottle after bottle until he can no longer hear his phone ringing incessantly. He wonders if Yunho looked this way back then too, if he felt this way, afraid of losing the one he loved and torturing himself with the possibility of being alone forever.

Changmin hopes Yunho doesn’t remember that, and he will spend the rest of forever making up for those moments that Yunho had suffered.

“I’m here, hyung,” Changmin whispers, bringing Yunho’s hand up to touch his cheek. Changmin turns his head into his palm and kisses it. “I’m your Changmin, hyung. I’m here, safe and happy, with you.”

For a moment, Changmin allows himself to hope. Perhaps today is one of those rare occasions that Yunho managed to salvage scraps of the lifetime they had spent together, perhaps today Yunho will smile at him and kiss him the way he used to. He searches his husband’s eyes for that small tinge of recognition, desperately imagines the beginnings of a smile, wishes for an expression of relief and ecstasy.

But Yunho withdraws his hand, his lips pressed into a line as he shakes his head fiercely, furious at the blatant lie.

“How could you say such a thing,” Yunho scolds, the accusation and anger burning Changmin’s skin like acid. “Changmin doesn’t even look like you! He’s so much younger and… and… You just don’t look like him! Just go away, I… I need to call him again.”

Changmin looks down and takes a breath, patient, before looking up again, a weak smile painted on his face as if he was really sorry for delivering a bad joke.

“I’m sorry, hyung, I won’t do that again.”

Changmin gathers himself and goes back to the kitchen and resumes drying the plates. He takes deep breaths and concentrates at the task at hand, willing the tears to subside.

After all, he still has forever more to continue on.

_You won’t have to be alone, hyung. I promise._


	5. take me away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> something i wrote super early on................... and just decided to abandon... ^^;;

_1437, North-Transylvania_

The man had put on a brave front when he spoke to his townspeople, convincing them that settlement by negotiation was still feasible, that they need not resort to violence yet, that the blood of the innocent such as that of the baby in his sister’s womb need not be shed. Allow me, he cried, to be your voices and protect your rights. He appeared confident, but he could not tamp down the flicker of doubt at the corner of his mind, which grew with each step he took as he marched to the governor’s office. From the corner of his eye, he spots a murder of crows perching along the edge of the roof of houses that lined the road he walked on. The sign of Death, his recalls. As he travels, the birds migrate, one by one, fluttering from the roof behind him to another on the path in front of him. It was as if they would not let him out of their sight. It was as if Death would not let him out of his sight. Oh, he suddenly realised, that the feeling threatening to drown his chest was not doubt, but the natural uneasiness that any mortal feels with death approaching. He mentally berates himself for not recognising it earlier. His beloved always told him he could be frustratingly dense at times.

Finally, he comes to a stop before the gate to the governor’s office. The ones guarding his journey stood neatly, unnaturally, along the top of the gate and the walls adjacent, staring unblinkingly at him. It is time, he thinks, as he closes his eyes and allows the uncontrollable feeling of dread to flood his senses. But what was more dominant, was the sense of excitement. As he hears the tightening of a bow, a hint of a smile touches his lips and he allows himself to hope.

The arrow is released.

He opens his eyes.

His smile fades. He is let down once again.

* * *

 

_1764, in the streets of Chicago_

Changmin swears never to let Minho near his alcohol stash ever again. He always gets so terribly competitive about drinking when he is literally the worst drinker Changmin has had the absolute misfortune to know and so he gets a terrible hangover the next morning and somehow it is all Changmin’s fault because “why didn’t _you_ stop drinking” and “whose alcohol did we drink”. So reluctantly, begrudgingly, Changmin covers Minho’s shift because otherwise the entire world will go into chaos and _not_ because he wants to let Minho sleep off his hangover and _definitely_ not because the younger man is basically like a younger brother to him.

Changmin roughly throws a duvet over Minho (or tucks him into bed but Changmin will never admit that), sets a glass of water at the bedside table and some hangover soup on the stove. Convinced that Minho will not somehow manage to puke and subsequently slip and fall and die in said puke, Changmin throws on his usual outfit, and heads out the door with Minho’s notebook in his hands.  

Changmin watched the entire incident from his perch on the railing. It was a pity really, how the man lost his life. But as heroic as it seemed, even Changmin could not _not_ blame the man for his stupidity that got him killed. He should have known that he was not in a good part of town, the girl’s cries were so obviously fake, and yet he still ran to help her. The outcome? He gets a knife to the stomach, pockets emptied and wrists stripped bare, and left to bleed out in the filthy alley on the coldest day of the year.

With a sigh, he sends a mental command and all the other crows that spectated flies towards him, and collectively bleeds into a hooded figure of a man. He lands softly on the snow and walks towards the bloodied body, snow crunching beneath his heavy boots, but leaving not a hint of a trail in his wake. He stops right in front of the body, then he waits.  

Just as the last glimmer of light leaves the eyes of the body, #2154 sits up a little too quickly and folds his legs. He bounces in his seat on the floor, seemingly... excited. 

That's not right. No soul ever reacted that way to Death, ever. Changmin involuntarily takes a step back, startled, and almost immediately bewilderment floods the face of #2154.

Puzzled, the soul in front of him squints and leans forth, trying to get a peek under the hood of Death.

Changmin holds his breath and takes a firm step back, his thoughts knocked all out of balance. It is not his behaviour in the face of Death that bothered him the most, but the force of the gaze that he fixed upon Changmin. Souls should not be able to see through the cloak of a reaper, and yet as every second passes, a little more certainty and hope seeps into the initial confusion written on his face, in his eyes, at the prolonged silent confrontation. The creases between his eyebrows smoothens, his eyes widens and his pupils darts left and right of the hooded face of Death, his lips part to allow the shallowing of his breath. Then his breath stills, before heaving out a dry sob, lips stretching into the most brilliant smile Changmin has ever seen. 

It is as if a man who travelled days in the desert found an oasis, Changmin thought, breath taken. Changmin does not know how or why, but he knows the man in front of him knows who he is. Not that he is Death, but that he is Changmin. Everything about him pulls at Changmin, like the most precious memory that was somehow forgotten, lost in the sands of time. It was as if Changmin knew everything about this man, and yet recalled nothing at all. And the very thought of having someone so beautiful and pure in his life, looking at him with love more intense than what even Mother Nature is capable of, makes Changmin feel things that he never knew was possible for reapers. For the first time, he feels cold, at the tips of his fingers and his feet, as they shake with the want to step forward and embrace the man with everything that he has, just to assure the man that Changmin was there and that Changmin was his. For the first time, he feels warmth, from the hollow of his chest, from the blood rushing through his veins, through his neck and his cheeks. And for the first time, he cries, tears spilling uncontrollably down his cheeks, chest heaving from the exertion of experiencing a whirlpool of intense emotions, from the relief of meeting him, to the awe of the purity and intensity of the man’s emotions as well as the emotions the man managed to evoke in him without saying even a single word, to sadness of meeting him only now, and suddenly Changmin does not understand how he managed to get through all this time without knowing this man, without loving this man.

For the longest time, as one sat and the other stood, they looked at each other, still separated by the hood of the cloak. Neither moved, both paralysed by emotion, both crying together, for the time that was lost, and for the memories that were forgotten.

The call of a crow resounded in the distance, a little too loud to be one of that of Mother Nature’s, snapping Changmin out of the moment he shared with #2154. It lands beside Changmin, and it melts, the black spreading upwards like spilled ink on canvas, into the form of another reaper.

“Hyung,” Minho starts, awkward. “You need to leave.”

“No,” Changmin growls out, angry and defensive.

“Hyung please, you will get into trouble-“

“I can’t,” Changmin bites out viciously, teeth clenched as he pulls down his hood. “I can’t leave him. No way.” _I can’t let him be reincarnated. I can’t watch him die again._

Minho looks at his hyung, his eyes swollen and red, and feels apologetic, sympathetic, and all sorts of heartbroken for him, but he needs to protect his hyung, protect his heart, for he knows that the road ahead for #2154 and Changmin, should they wish to be together, would be nothing less than multitudes of heartbreak and suffering. But he knows he can never stop Changmin, because despite the older reaper’s claims of being laid-back, he is a force to be reckoned with when he has a goal in mind. So he looks at the only one who can possibly stop him, he looks at #2154, and begs with his eyes. _Please protect him. Please protect him like how you know he will protect you._

If #2154 had noticed him, he showed no indication, his eyes fixed on Changmin’s unveiled face. The soul looks at him like how a starving man sees bread, like how a parched man sees an oasis, and how the imprisoned sees the sun for the first time in a long time. He slowly gets onto his feet, eyes never leaving Changmin, swaying a little when the action catches Changmin’s eyes and their eyes meet for the first time. He raises an arm, shaking, and stops, his fingers right beside Changmin’s cheek but not touching. He twists his wrist, thumb following the curve of Changmin’s cheekbone, as if he is caressing his cheek. Suddenly, the reality of being so close to Changmin, yet being unable to touch him like he wants to hits #2154 like a bullet train. His face crumples, and his fingers collapse into a tight clench. His other hand wraps tightly around Minho’s arm, as he forcefully tears his gaze away from Changmin, feeling as if a body has its soul ripped right out from the chest, and shuts his eyes tight, because opening his eyes means he may see Changmin’s reaction when he leaves him again, because it means that he has to see himself abandoning Changmin once again. And that hurts, more than watching others die over and over, more than himself dying over and over.

Minho understood, and he feels so sorry, so terrible, so brutal every single time he brought #2154 to the Otherworld, but he did it again and again, and this time will not be an exception. He knows both of them have one goal in mind, and that is to protect Changmin. So he throws the cape of his cloak over #2154, and they melt into one, into the body of a crow, and they take flight without looking back, beyond the sudden descent of tens of crows, plummeting to where Changmin stood. The crows were vicious, pecking at him and ripping at his flesh, anything to stop Changmin from chasing after the two.

Above, they hear the cry of agony drown in the rush of the wind. But the despair of being separated from one’s soulmate is intimate and timeless, so the crow stutters, losing height and speed, as it takes the full will of two to complete their journey to the underworld, and the regret that contaminates the will of both will undoubtedly slow the journey. The bird’s progress slows, but progress is progress nonetheless, for both reaper and soul know their final destination, and both know the implications of turning back.

As the last of the cries fade, all was left was the sound of the wind, a black bird, and a bloody tear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> because i feel bad, imma let yall know that in the full story that i was supposed to have written out they were together once and will end up together in the future a few lives later as TVXQ. pls don't be too sad otl


	6. the rose in the garden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for @changyun_run weekly challenge  
> #창윤_전력 #맥주_딸기  
> prompt: princess

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> KJDSFNSDKJFNDSKJNF IM SORRY i completely forgot about this and had so little time left and gosh this crappy thing came out. i warn yall of incoherent mumblings and... i don't even know. 
> 
> erm.... at least i think the plot is cute?

“Changmin, come in.”

A long length of pink silk trails behind him, and he takes small, measured steps, making sure to land heel first then followed by the rest of the foot, taking care not to disturb the freshly-picked magnolia blooms placed on the train of his robe. He keeps his head bowed as he emerges from the white silk gauze curtains, his gold head piece and pearl accessories weighing his head down.

He stops in front of the Queen and folds his hands over each other as he lowers himself onto his knees, his hands placed in front of his bowed head as he lowers himself to the floor.

“Good evening, mother,” He greets, as he rises. But he keeps his hands folded on his lap and his gaze on the floor, for he isn’t sure what to expect.

“Changmin,” The Queen starts, her eyes focused on something over his head. Changmin holds his breath, nervous, but makes sure to maintain his composure in front of her because she doesn’t need another reason to pick on him. Her visits had always been short and unpleasant, motivated solely by the King’s sporadic prompts about his well-being. “Is everything well?”

_“Not a single soul outside this pavilion should know, do you understand?” Her voice was calm, but like the calm before the storm. The threat and disdain was clear and unfiltered, and the words felt like tiny spiders crawling on his skin, like a noose placed on his neck._

“Of course, mother. It has been nothing but peaceful and tranquil here.”

_“Yes, your highness, I mean, mother. I will make sure that the secret will be kept.”_

“Good. Well, you may have heard, your father has fallen ill and your brother will be ascending the throne. You need to be present for the ceremony.”

“Yes, mother,” Changmin complied, bowing his head down once more.

_So the maids brought him to the private quarter, wrapped a white cloth around his crotch tightly, and put on beautiful embroidered robes on him. His hair was never again to be tied up in a ponytail or bun up in a hat, but long and loose till his waist, heavily adorned with the most precious jewels and beads._

_When he was done, the Queen enters the room and looks down at him._

_A smile touches her lips, painted in the deepest red like the crimson moon._

_Before her is a princess, and not a prince._

* * *

 

Changmin has never met the Queen’s sons before, but he has heard a great deal about them.

The servants at his pavilion always gossip about the most handsome warrior, his brightness of his smile rivalling that of the sun, his kindness and intelligence, of saints, and his will, of the Gods. He is, apparently, the most suitable heir to the throne despite being the fifth-born. So much so, in fact, oldest son, also a son of the Queen and the one that rightfully owned the title of the Crown Prince, abdicated and passed it down to his fifth brother.

Changmin smothers a laugh behind his sleeve as he imagines the ire of his mother.

His mother had always preferred her oldest born, he was sure of it. He remembers the smelly strict old lady who the Queen had ordered to look after him when he just entered the family and who gossips ad libitum. It wasn’t difficult to eavesdrop on her as her voice was as strong as her smell and it carries down the hallway as she flaunts all the secrets she know from her years of serving the Queen’s household to the younger maids in his pavilion.

“Her highness would do anything to ensure that Prince Lee Yeol gets the throne. He’s smart, talented, and ruthless,” She adds in a (equally loud) whisper. “Just like herself.”

“I mean sure, she loves her second son too but, she doesn’t think he is suited to be King. Too cheerful and loud and _trusting,_ he would bound to be manipulated by those cunning eunuchs and calculating court officials. He’s no good.”

Changmin’s curiosity is thus peaked by this man he has never met before. How did this naïve and well-natured young boy grow into a man that even the abdicated Crown Prince had to respect and give into, and he wonders if the Queen shared the same sentiment as her son or if she tried to stop her second’s son succession to his throne.

In his head, he tries to piece together all the little things he had heard throughout the years about the fifth son and attempts to paint a picture of this seemingly mystical force of nature. But the end result was an entity that he couldn’t believe was true, at least not in the confines of this palace, where only the most scheming and cruel thrived. There was no space for compassion and beauty, not of what he has heard of him anyway.

That revelation was rather disappointing, he was hoping to find at least one kind person he could confide in in the walls of this dusty old palace. He rather hoped it was his apparent brother, even if they weren't related by blood. 

Tired, he summons his servants to bring in his gayageum, hoping the music would quiet his mind for him to sort out his thoughts. But the servants spoke before he did, announcing the arrival of a servant of the future King. 

"Send him in," Changmin ordered, a million questions flooding his brain, thinking what possible message the future King would have sent to his estranged sister.

The messenger comes bounding in rather excitedly, far too different from the tranquility of his pavilion and the strict formalities upheld in these walls. To his surprise, the messenger doesn't bow or greet him as he should, but bursts into a wide smile as his eyes land on Changmin, pride shining in his eyes.

"Wow, you're beautiful," He laughs, vibrant colours spilling and painting the walls in deep gold and bright red. 

Changmin looks on, trapped between offence, confusion, and shyness. No one speaks this blatantly around here, much less praise his beauty. 

"Who are you," Changmin retorts, trying to sound as offended as he is supposed to feel by the audacity of the messenger but it comes out hesitant and unsure.

Damn him.

"Oh," The messenger startles, his smile dims and confidence withers as his shoulders hunch slightly at the unexpected question. Pleasure fills his chest at the knowledge that he had managed to catch the man off-guard after all, as he tries to ignore the little voice in his head cooing at how adorable the messenger was, his feelings so plainly exhibited on his face and in his posture. 

"My name is Yun,' The messenger continues, barely stopping himself from stuttering and tripping over his own feet. "I am here to er, send a message from Prince... Yunho?" 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and just because it's the changyun challenge im gonna make this clear, princess changmin can fuck whoever he wants because he may be wearing a dress but he's still dom as hell


End file.
